Queen of Hearts
by Mara93
Summary: Months before Guinevere's wedding to King Arthur she is faced with an obstacle.  Is it time to let the past go? Characters include Guinevere Arthur Morgana and others.  M for mature situations, Final part up.  This story is complete.  Thanks!
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Queen of Hearts

**Rating:** M for mature situations

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim. Merlin belongs to BBC/Shine.

**Genre:** Future Cannon (no spoilers beyond season 3) Angst/Drama (hurt/comfort)

**Characters:** Guinevere, Arthur, Morgana, Merlin and some more to be revealed

**Summary:** Months before Guinevere's wedding to King Arthur she is faced with an obstacle. Is it time to let the past go?

**Author's Note:** Elements of the first part may be disturbing for some. It will balance out. I have auction fics I'm still writing, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. The story is already completely written and edited. Any relation to the episode with the title's name is mostly minimal.

This is part I of a three part story that is fully written already. I'll be posting the updates a week apart.

Part I

**Night Terror**

Clothed in black obscurity, a witch seeks revenge for the death of her sister. Blended into the mist of advanced night, she conjures a hideous chimera.

**III**

_The room is warm, lush. Shimmering curtains surround, colorful, bright. Blown softly by an unseen wind. Each so ethereal they reveal glimmers of movement beyond. _

_The breeze lifts one, a sound echoing. It makes the woman observer shudder with embarrassment. The sound. There's something so prurient about it. _

_Flowers appear upon the ends of the curtains, beautiful flowers of lavender. One brushes over her fingers. Such delicate petals. _

_Another curtain lifts. She glimpses what must be a bed, high, adorned with gorgeous lavender silk and velvet coverings. _

_A third curtain feels the breeze's song. It too lifts, showing feet, ankles. They vibrate rhythmically against another set, a thrumming of intimate interaction. She blushes at it as her hand finds her breast. _

_A fourth curtain parts way to show even more. Nakedness. Stripped bare of clothing, thighs widely spread. Sharp hips above pummel into hot wet surroundings. Skin kisses skin. It's what the sound was. This is a lovemaking pair. She's an audience to it. This is terribly wrong. She should leave, but her hands markedly touch her body instead._

_The fifth curtain becomes the wind's possession. It lifts to reveal that the upper parts of the constitutions are just as bare. A man's hard chest rubs against a woman's bouncing breasts with every thrust of his lower half. Skin is flush, set in deep arousal of nearing consummation. The woman observer's thighs widen as she strains for something she doesn't yet fully understand. _

_Now it is the sixth's turn. It whips upward vehemently as the wind increases. The action on the bed rips into a frenzy. Skin slaps skin, hard, erotic punishments. Long grunts. Moans slip past lips. Wild animalistic punctuation. A pounding of thrusts. The lovers' bodies move so torrentially fast that they are a storm of approaching climax. As it reaches pinnacle, one of the lovers howls with vicious abandon. _

_The woman observer's thighs clench painfully. Burning sensation. She feels such hot wetness as the identity of the lovers becomes clear. It is her future king, his beautiful golden sand streaks of hair, that pout of lips she loves so much. The woman has midnight curls of hair that fall around her face wildly now._

_It is she and her king. This is how it will be. The woman observer feels the swarming wet heat between her thighs smolder to near peak. _

_They turn around now to face her, smiling ever so languishingly. It's his beautiful expression, rained upon by lovers' sweat, but hers-_

_Hers-_

_That near peak turns to burning ice. _

_It wrenches coldly, freezing her so brutally inside that she contorts with pain. Far away is wicked laughter as the woman is no longer her._

_NEVER was._

_She is unknown, more than one, faces flashing of his past acquaintances and those she does not recognize. All are golden in beauty, perfect really, perfect princess ladies. He smiles her way, a grin so satisfying that it does not care one shard for her frozen agony. Barbed icicles impale her insides. They twist her previous excitement into frigid horror. She pleads to whatever evil tempest this is, for it to end. _

_But the worst has not yet occurred._

_With another smile directed her way the naked sweating flushed lovers change positions. The woman climbs atop the man, spreads her wet glistening thighs over his beaded waist. With an indulgent lazy smile he lies back against the pillows. Her king so languidly enjoying the attentions of another woman. He thrusts upward. The woman coos with pleasure. Grabs her breasts. Lets her head fall back with erotic pleasured abandon._

_The woman observer tries to find an out. An escape. But there is none. Every attempt leads her to another curtain. Another vision of these lovers. In a new position. As the laughter echoes hideously behind her. Position after position. Sweat. Hot. Naked. Lovers. Her king. Always smiling. Impaling her heart. One bladed icicle after another. Making everything between her thighs turn to ice. Frigid. Cold. She runs. Rips the curtains away. Lovers behind each one. Laughter surrounding her hearing. _

_Sounds of skin pushed against skin. _

_Thrusts of sex. _

_She rips harder at the curtains, but once one is gone another slaps her face. And laughs. Lustful actions. An assault of them. Of his smiling face. Snickering at her. Humiliating her. Rending her apart. She claws again and again. Her fingers start to bleed. She looks down at her hands, at the thick trails of dark red crimson blood-_

_That is where it ends._

_Finally._

_Mercifully._

_Before her heart can bleed itself out…_

Gwen screams like she has never before.

Over and over.

Ripping.

Contortions of sound.

Sitting up in her bed, they thrust, bleeding cries from her mouth until her throat is raw. She is wet, sweating horridly. When she looks down she sees that her chemise is askew, lifted wantonly. She pushes it down furiously, tears of sweat running down her face, trickling from her curls of hair. Down there wetting her thighs.

She shoves shaking hands to her hair, telling herself over and over again that it wasn't true. Wasn't real. Just a dream. A night terror. Arthur would never do that to her. Arthur loves her.

Again and again. A mantra.

It heals nothing.

**III**

The witch howls wretchedly. Before the chimera can cause complete madness, actually bring on blood, it ceases. Suddenly. Without warning. The witch is thrown back against the caved floor. Stunned. Someone, _someone_, some entity stopped it. The witch is suddenly assailed by memories of her times spent with the girl. The girl being the handmaiden of course.

_Picking flowers. Going to the market. Laughing at the prince's expense. Sitting upon her bed giggling. Getting dressed with her friend's help. Riding on horseback to her father's resting place. Feeling the girl's gentle strong hugs after a dream. Waiting for her to be returned home. Endless moments of agony standing at the window looking to see if ever her face will be there again. And then. She is there. Returned with the prince. She is in her arms, her dear sweet handmaiden, her adoring brave friend-_

"NO! NO! NO!" The witch screams, tearing at her long dark locks of hair. "I don't feel this way. She is nothing to me. She betrayed me by accepting his love over my friendship. She went to him pretending to be on my side. She cannot stop my power. Not like this. She has none. She's just a simple servant girl, nothing.

I am Morgana. The Witch. I have lost my sister. They STOLE her from me. I have nothing now so I have _nothing left to lose_. I want her dead. I want all of them dead.

So why? How? Who? Keeps me from this? Gwen has no power. _She can't do it!_ Who? What? Protected her from my chimera? WHO?"

More of the images come, making the witch coo with fond remembrance, before she screams out,

"ENOUGH! I don't care about her! I don't care about any of them!"

And yet maybe in the most fathomless depths of her heart that is _not_ so true.

For tonight the _Queen of Hearts_ survived.

The drive to madness failed.

Morgana, _the witch_, is puzzled.

How did it not work?

_How?_

**III**

Gwen wipes her face and body of the night terror's sweat. Physically she is cleaned; mentally its awful images cavort viciously in front of her eyes.

_She cannot stay here._

Finding her purple cloak, she wraps it around her shaking body, slips on her shoes, and departs out into the night, leaving behind in her tiny house a shining celebratory gown that hangs beyond a lavender curtain. It is made for a day only months away.

Rounding a group of houses that are near the marketplace, she stops at a rustic one. Her hand freezes over the door. This is indulgent nonsense. _A shudder of the dream comes back_. She fists her hand and knocks hard.

There's nothing at first, but as she adamantly continues to hit the door, it comes, sounds of movement and the burning flicker of a flame. A disgruntled voice.

"_Arrr—who is that? I-OH!"_

There's a loud crash. Gwen winces at it.

"_AH! Stubbed my toe! What is that dang pot doing there? Grrr…I'm MAD—you hear me whoever's out there! You're going to be sorry you disturbed my sleep!"_

Gwen almost shrinks back from the door as it suddenly whips open. The man, with his tunic askew and hair messily falling over his forehead, gapes.

"GWEN?"

She feels foolish, unable to stop _them_.

"Gads, you're shivering!" He pulls her quickly inside his disorganized house, rapidly placing the pot that must have been on the floor atop the simple pine table. As Gwen silently scans it all she feels the hard spontaneous force of his hug.

"Eh now, what happened? Is this about the _princess_? If he's done something-

She needs to stop this before all of Camelot is awakened by his wrath. Pressing upon his chest to create some distance, she tries to find her usual calm. "Gwaine, it's nothing like that. I just-I don't know if I'm being irrational, acting like this."

As Gwen, the future queen of Camelot, and his friend, stumbles on her words with upset, Gwaine frowns tightly. "Ah, come on now. What happened Gwen? I've never seen you like this. If Arthur-

"No. It's not Arthur." She insists. "Well not directly anyway. I-I had this awful dream. I know it sounds foolish to get so upset over a simple dream, but it was very real, very ugly. And I just, I need you to help me now Gwaine."

"Like how? Take the dream away?" Gwaine, underneath his heap of unruly dark hair, looks clueless. "What was it about anyway?"

Gwen gives no answer to the questions. Instead she holds his hand gently for a moment. His hug warmed her up slightly, but the chilling shudders have not totally vacated.

"You're the only knight other than Elyan who doesn't live in the castle. And I can't go to Elyan, not about this. I can't do it alone either, not with the guards so fiercely watching. It would create chaos."

Gwaine frowns. "True, they're extra diligent after what happened with Morgause. Arthur knows that Morgana will soon come wanting revenge. Thus security is tight."

Gwen nods her head, pain forming in her heart at the name of her former mistress. There was a time that the two of them were almost inseparable. She misses _that _Morgana. "Exactly. Which is why I need _you_ to get me in, tonight, now. I- - oh Gwaine, I need to see Arthur."

Gwaine touches her cheek gently. "Are you sure you're all right Gwen?"

"I will be. After I see him. Please Gwaine."

Gwaine doesn't need to be convinced twice. If Arthur hadn't snatched up her heart first he probably would have competed for it. Beyond her natural almost humble beauty, there is something solidly special about Gwen. It gets people to pay attention.

"Sure, we'll go now. That is, unless I can persuade you otherwise." Gwaine looks around haphazardly before finding his boots underneath a blanket from his bed. He pulls them on over his feet, speaking with cool charm.

She's in love with the king, but that doesn't mean he can't keep trying. Might get her to smile a little more.

"After all, you're beautiful, a born to be queen in every right, and I fight better than the princess, am better looking and a whole list of other things. So what do you say Gwen, save you the trouble of the trip to the castle. _I_ can help you forget that dream."

He kisses the back of her hand to punctuate the flourishing statement.

Gwen snickers as he releases her hand. "_That's_ how you get all the women? With that charm and outright boasting?"

He shrugs, unruly hair swinging with the motion. "Most of the time. That and the fact that I'm a knight. _They love that one_. Go all melty over it." He winks.

It's infectious. Gwen can't help but smile. "_SIR_ Gwaine."

"Um-hum."

"_Take me to Arthur now."_

He offers her his arm in _knightly_ fashion. "Sure. Had to try."

"Of course." She takes it.

Her smile is back, but then without warning another shudder rocks her. Gwaine frowns at it. He was teasing of course. He knows that Gwen is deeply in love with Arthur, and that it's returned. If it's Arthur she needs then it's Arthur she's going to get. Disengaging his arm from hers, he instead wraps it tightly around her shoulders as they vacate his house.

**III**

They get past the guards after Gwaine states his knightly importance, affirming if they don't let them in he will start shouting until the king is awakened. Doesn't hurt also that he flashes the gleaming blade of his sword in their direction.

_It took mere minutes for the key to enter the grip of his hand after that._

Now as he and Gwen make it to the king's quarters, she holds back.

Gwaine grips her arm worriedly as a shudder shocks through her body.

"Gwen, you keep doing that!"

She shakes her head. "No, just-

He gestures with the key.

"What is it?" She says nothing, doesn't move. He tips his finger under her chin to see her eyes. "We're here. You can go in."

"Am I wrong in doing this?"

Gwaine shrugs with only a little understanding. "You said you needed to see him."

"But is this being too indulgent?"

"Gwen you're never anything near indulgent. You're always giving to others. For you to want to see him this badly, to be shaking like this, I know that dream did a number on you. And Arthur will realize that too because if he doesn't he's an idiot, but I'm betting he'll get it. This is what you want. I'd knock down this door to get you in there to see him."

"Or you could just use the key."

She smiles dryly, getting him to also.

"Yeah, could do that too."

Gwaine opens up the door with the key and waits. Gwen gestures nervously. "It's okay. You can go now."

Gwaine's hesitant.

Gwen manages a warm smile. Touching his shoulders, she gives him a kiss of gratitude on the cheek. She never could have done this without him. They wouldn't have allowed her into the castle in the first place and even if she managed it still she would have been embarrassed to have the guard bring her to Arthur's quarters. "Really. It's fine. I'm here. Thanks to you Gwaine."

He smiles with rare seriousness, tapping her chin. "Anything for the future queen. Good night Gwen. If you ever get bored of the princess, you know where I live."

She blushes, a titter of laughter falling from her mouth. Gwaine smiles at that and leaves.

Hearing the heavy beat of his boots retreat down the hallway to the stairs, Gwen lets out a long sigh. Quietly pulling the door open a bit more, she slips inside and shuts it slowly to dull the noise. Only a slight creak echoes.

She gazes down upon the sleeping king. She has never shared a bed with him. So much has happened in the past months that their time together has been limited. Mostly all they've done is partake in passionate kisses. That's why at first she was excited for the dream to be about the two of them. It was something they've yet to do. When it became about other women, it made her feel beyond hurtful betrayal, her deepest insecurities. Which is all just crazy because Arthur has _not_ betrayed her. The dream is wrong.

And yet still…

_It makes her shudder_.

Gwen takes a step further inside the room, hearing a faint repeated sound coming from the bed and tiny crackles of popping wood from the fireplace.

His vast bed is covered in deep red linens. He sleeps silently within the middle of all the covers, _alone_. Some of the blankets are falling off the edge, possibly from night kicks. He looks so peaceful in sleep. Young. Unbothered. And yet she knows well that the past months have been tiring ones for him, emotionally and physically.

Only two weeks ago Arthur became king, _officially_. Unofficially he assumed the role months before. After Morgana's failed attempt to take Camelot, Arthur's father was in no mental state to rule the kingdom. Arthur took over, heavily assisted by advisors, the knights and Merlin. By the time Uther's physical health deteriorated also, Arthur had learned much about being king, and relied upon others more for guidance than getting things done for him. Still, experience of his title couldn't lessen the emotional blow when Uther succumbed one night late into the evening. Arthur sat at his bedside pushing away his battle related exhaustion to deliver his father gently to Heaven. Gwen watched protectively from the doorway. After his final breath, the king was buried and Arthur was given a quick coronation ceremony.

In two months' time, at their wedding, more celebration is planned to fully bring Camelot to healing. There Gwen will be crowned Queen Guinevere by her king, the man she loves. A man who is sleeping so soundly she's reluctant to disturb him at all.

Gwen advances further upon the bed. She manages a smile, noticing more as she gets closer. Arthur is shirtless, lying on his back, and softly snoring. That was the other sound when she first came into the room. He snored like that when she invited him to her home that time he pretended to be _Sir William_. Only now the snoring is not so loud, faintly there.

Her smile is cut away as another night terror reminder makes her body shiver violently. Gwen braces herself on the bed's corner. Pressing her hand to the red satin coverlets, she sinks down upon the luxuriousness. Looking around the room, the fireplace crackling softly, she presses her palm to her heart. She hates having no control over her emotions now, controlled by the dream like it's some sort of evil spell.

She looks over to the fire, to the orange red embers gently flashing across the burning log, and sees cut through its peacefulness, a variation of ugly images. The faces smile at her wickedly, taunting and uncaring of her pain. She kicks away her shoes and brings her knees up to her chest, shutting her eyes and shivering.

The king turns in his sleep, shifting slightly to his side, feeling a pressure at the foot of his bed that seems strange, but mostly annoying, and Arthur doesn't like _annoyances_. Thinking it's a stray pillow he kicks at it sleepily, but as it lets out a crying protest he stills his foot and opens his eyes rapidly. Already his hand inches for his sword as he jumps halfway up, but then he notices that the figure at the edge of his bed is a woman who moved under his near kicking assault. She's further down the bed's alternate side of his offending feet, shaking.

The familiar midnight curls make his eyes widen. The rigidness of her upper back alerts him strongly.

His voice fighting the grogginess of sleep, he asks, perhaps to make sure it's no dream. "Guinevere?"

She bites her bottom lip, opening her eyes, but does not turn to him, the dream still _everywhere_.

Arthur sits up further, presses his knees into the mattress and crawls over. "Are you alright?" He asks with squinting eyes, a wrinkled brow.

She says nothing, just stays locked within her own arms, trying to ward off the phantom dream.

Arthur frowns. Between steady quaking her body gives surprising jolts of shock every few moments. _Why?_

"Guinevere, what is it?" Arthur touches her shoulder delicately, worry escalating. He's never seen her so tightly woven like this. Like something is threatening her.

"What happened? Did someone hurt you? If they did, they will rue-

She doesn't move. She doesn't say _anything_ and it drives him so mad that he anxiously grasps her chin, gets her to turn his way. _"Guinevere."_

His voice is piercing. Demanding. _Needing_.

Arthur's heart trembles at the tear that falls down her face. His stomach roils uncomfortably as he grasps her cheek with fingers that have roughened skin from sword practice and repeated battle. He fights the primal urge to force it out of her. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

More tears fall. She shudders within herself, the dream not letting go, that languishing smile still there as the woman above-

Her body jolts.

Arthur stares at it with fright.

Gwen feels as if a curse has been set upon her, stealing her voice, her dignity and her strength. Another strong jolt hits, following an image of one of those p_ositions_.

Arthur locks both hands around her cheeks, feeling the wetness of her tears with dread. He stares at her so closely he can see where the fire's orange gold flickers shine in her dark eyes. "Tell me please."

She can't get away from his penetrating look. _Doesn't want to._

_It was a dream_, she keeps telling herself. It's barely effective. His eyes, so blue, so full of anxiety, force her lips to part. She can't hold like this and not tell him. He looks ready to burst.

"I had a…bad dream."

It's ridiculous to her ears. His eyes widen with bemusement. She sounds silly.

"Oh."

Gwen starts to lower her face with embarrassment, but Arthur's hands are strong still on her cheeks.

"No." Arthur's perplexed certainly. He spent a tiring day dealing with kingdom politics and a bandit raid attempt at the south-eastern side of the forest that leads to Camelot. It left him with a nicked shoulder and a sore back, the latter from the political dealings, having to sit in a firm backed chair so long without movement. Now suddenly she's here, crying, shaking, and he has no reason why. He guesses it's the middle of the night by the way the fireplace's embers are not strong, but only softly glowing. That means this dream had to have some strong significance. She wouldn't be here this late for any other reason.

"I didn't mean to sound so casual about it. What kind of dream?"

"You were in it."

Arthur makes only the slightest gesture. Doesn't seem too awful yet.

"You were with someone in it."

Okay, Arthur's still not getting the point. He considers himself clever enough, maybe not one to act on wisdom first, but smartly tutored and quick to form ideas.

Gwen continues, mad at herself for not being more direct. Everything in her mind is jumbled up now though within the dream's memory. "You were with a woman. Not me. Actually more than one woman, some from your past, some I didn't recognize. You were kissing them."

Arthur nods his head, a small relieved smile forming on his face as he caresses her cheeks happily. "_Is that all?_ Just a dream Guinevere. There's only one woman I enjoy kissing now-

"It wasn't _just_ kissing." Gwen cuts through piercingly. Her voice chokes as one of the images slices back in.

_The woman is against his chest, as he fondles her breasts, smiles lazily at her deep moans._

Gwen pushes Arthur's hands away from her face. Bringing her palm up to keep them apart as he stares at her, she goes on. "I thought it was me at first. But it _wasn't_. It was a different woman every time. Engaged with you. In lustful acts. _Private sensual acts_. And you were smiling at me like you-

Like-you didn't care. It was like you wanted me to see. It h-hurt me."

He gapes at her like she's seen an omen as she shirks away from him to the farthest corner of his vast bed.

**III**

End of Part I

I know, sort of a cliffhanger. It wasn't really intentional. It's just one of the two best places for the story to have a break. Second part next week.

Thanks for reading. Feedback is appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Queen of Hearts

**Rating:** M for mature situations

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim. Merlin belongs to BBC/Shine.

**Genre:** Future Cannon (no spoilers beyond season 3) Angst/Drama (hurt/comfort)

**Characters:** Guinevere, Arthur, Morgana, Merlin, Gwaine and some more to be revealed

**Summary:** Months before Guinevere's wedding to King Arthur she is faced with an obstacle. Is it time to let the past go?

**Author's Note:** This is part II of III. The final part will be posted next week.

Thanks for the feedback, story alerts etc! Just to comment on some of the feedback: When Gwaine says 'princess' it's just him joking with Arthur. I've seen it in other fics and I think he used it on the show before so just kind of caught on with me. It's a teasing term, lol. Sharp eyes for noticing the references! What Gwen was shown was a 'dream' but yes it was very real because it was conjured by magic. More about that will be understood in this part and the next. Thanks!

**III**

**Queen of Hearts**

**Part II**

**Fathomless**

Gwen huddles in the corner of his bed, saying nothing more.

"Guinevere?"

Arthur's usual strong resolve is shaken. Getting to this place in their courtship has not been easy. They have dealt with quite a few attempted intrusions, including deceptions of sorcery, jealousy, bandit kidnappings, a disapproving father, pretentious nobles, questioning peasants, and ordinary misunderstandings.

Love alone cannot win over everything. Marrying her is what he greedily wants, but he has another love, the kingdom of Camelot. And she has one who desires her. Lancelot.

_Ridiculous that they rhyme at the end so perfectly. Almost as if sickening fate._

His thoughts _don't_ need to go there right now.

The dream is troublesome, but he sensibly reminds himself, _not real_. He hasn't desired another woman in a long time, and even then, it was mostly physical or silly grinning lovesick crushes.

If there's anything that comes between them on his end, it is the duty of being king, continuing the rule his father started, evolving it to fit his own personality. The latter has been met with mixed opinions. Change is exciting to the majority who love and respect him, but for the minority any differences he brings are looked at with suspicion. They want his father back, don't want her to be queen, and don't care for any new kind of Camelot.

Some would argue it would be easier to just let her go and marry the norm, what is and who is expected. Arthur thinks he could argue back he is not the norm. Arthur wants to marry Guinevere for love primarily, yes, but also he believes she is the right queen for his vision of a future Camelot, a majestic kingdom where no one goes poor, where everyone is vital. Perhaps it is idealistic, but that is why already he sends knights on peacekeeping missions. He's not fooling himself that it will be easy, but is resolute in that it can be achieved, a full unification of kingdoms, a land so prosperous for all.

Guinevere has helped him see that all classes are important to a kingdom's success. She has taught him about humility and courage in making decisions. She carries herself with such quiet dignity that encourages others to look within themselves, at how they can be more helpful, how they can be stronger of mind. That is the kind of queen his envisioned Camelot will need and that he wants to be married to. This is the woman he is determined to share life with, who he loves, and who deserves his comfort now.

He crawls over the bed linens, determined to close up the distance. Getting to her, his fingers tangle into her dark curls. He clasps her shoulder. These loving actions make her his tender prisoner. Arthur carefully lifts her head, seeing the haunting in her evening colored eyes. His mouth goes dry at it. "I love you. Whatever you saw it wasn't real. Trust me. This night I am too sore to even be capable of such adventurous activity with anyone."

She shakes with amusement at his attempt of wry humor.

The little bit of laughter is what he wanted. "I don't _want_ that kind of…activity…with anyone but you."

He asks soberly, "Do you doubt me so much to think anything different Guinevere?"

His voice is tinged with hurt. "It's not that I doubt you Arthur. It's that the dream will not leave me alone. Its horrible images keep flashing through my mind and heart. I just want them to go away."

She tries to say it calmly, but the jolts are prevalent. Arthur feels one now worriedly. He wraps the arm around her shoulder tighter.

Gwen clutches his chest.

Arthur pulls back a touch, caresses her cheek with his hand, and as her eyes slit closed, he kisses her slowly. Deeply. Tongue brushing through her parted lips. He tries to find that point where her shivers begin, hoping to replace it with sweet intimacy. When her body jolts again he feels like a horrible failure.

One hand pushed against his chest, the other gripping his naked back, Gwen's head falls weakly against his shoulder. Hot tears fall down her cheeks.

Arthur feels them discontentedly. A frustrated grimace lines his face, his bottom lip pouting strongly. He has to do something more than just hold her. Tenderness alone is not going to help this nor any loving words said. Maybe that's because the dream was of an erotic nature, scintillating.

Ending another slow kiss, he tenderly touches her lips, wiping at a few of her tears. "It's not going away is it?" Guinevere's tears are always a heavy price. They are rare and so when they come so abundantly, they mean her agony.

"No."

Arthur presses his mouth against hers intensely for a few moments, leaving it with a finger that trails from her temple to her chin. "Perhaps then something more needs to be done. Do you trust me Guinevere?"

She nods rapidly. "Always Arthur."

His heart swells at her fervent adamancy. "Good." He passes his finger over her lips, feeling her shudder—_with desire_. "You can tell me if I proceed too far. At any time."

She brings her head down with tangents of shame. She usually has better control over her emotions. "I feel so silly about this. You're right, it was only a dream. So why am I being so-

"_Enough."_ He stops her right there, pressing his fingers over her lips. "It hurt you. There's nothing silly about that." Seeing her nod of understanding, Arthur pushes his knees into the mattress, sliding around her. At her back he stops, stretching his legs out on either side of her. With a warm wet kiss to her ear, he whispers, "Better for us to be close to each other."

"Mmm…" She quietly murmurs.

Her legs are bent so they will need to fix that. "Guinevere, unfold your legs. So you will be more comfortable."

It's a command, befitting of a king, but it's delivered with tender softness, even more befitting of a man in love. She spreads her legs out over the bed linens. Her toes touch his ankles.

With their positions now relaxed, Arthur brings his hands around the front of Guinevere's cloak. He unties its bindings, and slips it down her shoulders, pulling it away from her body, feeling her assistance as she moves slightly up off the bed to get the last of the material away. Underneath she is wearing a simple linen chemise of ivory white. Arthur admires the way it softly outlines her figure.

Gwen closes her eyes, the hard heat of his body her sustainment as he brushes kisses over her cheek. His golden sand hairs flutter against her face. She touches the waving thin tendrils, smiling at their suppleness. It's a sweet contradiction to his strongly commanding demeanor.

Arthur locks his hands around her waist, feeling how she entwines her fingers within his hair. He twists his head with a slight awkward motion, meeting her lips with his for a slow tender kiss. It grows to tongues that dance against each other. Feeling her react so strongly to that, he moves his mouth away to her ear, tickles it with her tongue. At it, he hears with satisfaction her trailing breath of pleasure.

She pushes against his naked chest, wanting more of what he is doing.

It's a little bit of trial and error. Truthfully Arthur has always considered himself more action oriented than romantic. He's not the poet with all the right words, or the expert at foreplay. But with Guinevere, intents of romance have always been a factor. He enjoys making her feel adored. Now as she reacts favorably to his beginning passions, it urges him on. Hearing her hum with growing desires under the gentle force of his tongue, he finds her neck, tastes the skin there, sweet and divine.

Gwen lifts her head languidly to feel more of him. As one of his hands vacates her waist she protests with a tight groan of disapproval.

Arthur chuckles at it while setting to hide his reaction. He's wearing nothing more than beige trousers as sleepwear, and so within the hardening of his body is becoming more prominent. Messily, he pushes some of the covers between their lower halves, generously not wanting to make this about his need. That can wait for their wedding if she is so inclined. That night even, he has no intent of pushing her into anything she's not yet ready for. They will come to it together.

Perhaps he need not be so worrisome for Gwen's emotions are sliding from pained to strongly desiring. His tongue alternates between her neck and mouth, the kisses less slow, more thorough. She follows his lead, daringly creating her own. Raining heat permeates from their lips and starts to create the flushing of their skin. Against her chemise she feels a faint sprinkle of dampness from his chest. It doesn't irritate at all, only brings up the intimacy of their actions. She brings her hand down to where both of his lock in her waist. Interjecting her fingers with his, she makes them her possession. With clear physical intent, she lifts them higher.

His consent comes quickly. One hand still fixed at her waist, the other tickles her rib cage. It draws slow circles over the material of her chemise. It's cloth that protects her from the cold of winter, but not so thick that it hides from his touch everything. It's actually easy to find the underside of her breasts, no barrier to prevent it.

At the feel of his hand there, Gwen's breath hitches. This is the first time touches between them have reached such sensual parameters.

Arthur stops moving his fingers, kissing the outside of her ear. "Alright?"

"Yes. It's just new."

"Bad?"

Gwen squeezes his leg. "No. Not at all. Wonderful really. I can't describe it further. Just need time to adapt."

He kisses her cheek. "You have it. All the time you need. Should I go on?"

"Yes. Definitely." She replies passionately.

Arthur nods his head with a slow smile. He likes how her voice goes deep with feeling. Now as her breath evens out more he lifts his other hand from her waist. It meets the first at the underside of her breasts. Slowly they ascend further, finding the full roundness with wonder. Guinevere is sleight in height, but has a beautiful womanly figure that she accents even more with the kinds of dresses she wears of late. In the chemise, meant to do nothing more than fold over the body for warmth, it's even more evident, how plenary her breasts are. Bringing his hands over them to just lightly cup, he stays still like that, giving her the time to adapt that he said he would.

Gwen grips the lower half material of his trousers, flush and aroused by what he is doing, excited and the tiniest bit frightened. He keeps his hands still, instead caressing her ear and cheek with his wandering mouth. It steadies her, brings out the want of more.

At the continuing fierce grip of her fingers against his legs, Arthur tastes heavily the sweet skin of her neck and collarbone. He presses his face hotly there hearing her answering sigh.

The wet heat of his chest against her back is rising, making Gwen's body twist a little. She wants something. Something so…

He nips lightly, hungrily, leaving no permanent mark, but passion sliding from his mouth. Feeling her body give a quiver, angle closer against him, Arthur breathes more tightly. Looking down for a moment, he catches through the fireplace's orange glow how the pressure of his hands against her chemise has brought it out. The slow foreplay is arousing her so that the crests of her nipples are hitting the chemise's material. It's all covered by the ivory white, but still it makes him firm up more. He winces a little at the irritation, pressing his mouth back hotly to her neck, closing his eyes before she can see his strong reaction. His fingers tense with need to move. Slowly they go around the outside of her chemise, over her flush rising breasts.

His stroking is heavenly. Sending her to a warm bliss she never knew existed. Gwen pushes against his chest, feeling its rigid support and thankful for it. One of her hands wanders from his legs to up his stomach. It's firm, but not as rock chiseled as it may be for some men. Arthur is a man of hearty appetite and even though he is not near fat, the skin right at his stomach is just a bit not so firm. Feeling it so intimately now, getting to know it so well, she revels at her finger's wanderings.

Lips curve unhurriedly. Eyes slit half closed. He loves how she reacts, aches to do more. Feeling her consent by how her hands touch him with such ardor, he circles her breasts with firmer direction, finding the crest of her nipple. Arthur catches it meaningfully, but tenderly with his fingers. At the contact she breathes harder. Pushes her back tighter against his.

A foreign moan escapes her mouth as that one action of his builds heat between her thighs. Gwen twists against Arthur. He seems questioning. To let him know that there is no need to ask her anything, she turns her head against his shoulder, demands Arthur's lips with only a fraction of shyness. His impatient grunt comes out, his mouth answering hers. She rolls her tongue hungrily against his.

Locked into the fathomless kiss, Arthur's hands grow more daring. Both caress her breasts now, one tightly circling her nipple, hearing her anxious excited moan, feeling her body start to unabashedly wriggle. Breaking the kiss, breathing heavily against her face, he asks to be sure, "You are okay, yes Guinevere?"

She barely opens her eyes, lost in a haze of bliss and scaling desire. "Yes…Arthur."

Her hand trails out of his hair, down his shoulder and over her chemise, between her thighs. She rubs briskly at the material. It feels so wonderful, almost painful and that is why now she pushes her hand there because it's building, but it's not there yet. "Arthur…" She breathes fervidly against his neck, her lips pressing against it, half muffling her words. "I need…"

"I know." He whispers back, keeping those covers between their lower halves. He needs so badly now too, but he's tempering it, trying to. "Touch yourself. There. Guinevere." It's a daring thing to tell her. Yet she's to be his wife. She's opening up to all these things he's pretty certain she hasn't before. Beautifully. He's the guide. Honestly, he's a tiny bit scared to be it, like that first time they kissed and even though he really wanted it, it left him vulnerable. Needing her to have wanted the kiss as much as he had. And when she did, oh that was the prize. More than any won jousting match. Now, this goes beyond. From first kisses to first touches of erotic nature.

A bit brazenly, curious and aroused, she does as he asks. Pressing her fingers over the folds of her chemise, she keeps moving them steadily. Over.

Catching her hitches of breath, and yet not total satisfaction, Arthur asks, "Not enough?"

"No."

He nods, gesturing downward with one hand, taking it away from her breast for the moment. "You'll let me?"

She slides the word out of her mouth fervently. "Yes."

As he brings his hand down to her chemise and stops to gaze her reaction she gives him a gesture with her lips to continue. Arthur lowers his hand all the way to the hem.

Perhaps a little afraid, but more-so thirsting for him to go further, Gwen pulls at the hem, lifts it over her knees. Feeling his hand come above hers, she stops there.

Arthur kisses her cheek, her temple, whispering, "That's fine."

She leans further against him, giving into all the wonderful exciting physical sensations. Ready for more. She wetly kisses his descending lips, feeling his fingers brush over her nipple, teasing it lightly. But that's all over the material. Now it comes, his hand wandering over her bared leg, sliding past the bottom of her chemise to touch her naked thigh. She breathes faster at its pressure.

Arthur hesitates, but the fingers of one of her hands tangle so far into his hair, they pull it a bit painfully. Passionately. She's not at all requesting him to stop. Her eyes closed, the way her lips curve just slightly, she fervently desires what he's doing. What is making him harden with pinpricks of ache.

As one hand continues to roll over her breast, brush and play gently with her nipple, the other ventures over and through her thighs, long even strokes of discovery. Liquid heat builds within her body as Gwen pointedly touches his chest, grips his hair harder, getting him to let out a small grunt of complaint that he lets go of by insisting a kiss from her lips. She gives it freely, their tongues once again edging and springing against each other.

He's so glad for the blankets he forced between them at the beginning of this because seeing her react so honestly is nearly driving him mad. Touching her so intimately is burning his fingers to pleasurable flames. "I love you…" He whispers breathlessly, in between kisses that delve to no end.

"I love you too." She manages to get out, his fingers in between her hot wet thighs making her twist against him even more strongly, setting up a vibration she never realized her body could rhythmically make. It's a dangerous beautiful sensation, having his hand becoming one with her breast while his other is deep inside her legs turning her outside and interior into flames of liquid heat.

She goes from wriggles and twists to sometimes a steady rocking. He keeps his mouth tightly fastened on hers for kisses that turn to lustful drinks of each other, mouths zestfully doing battle and finding victory with each other. Feeling her so locked into that with him, Arthur makes another daring move. His hand probes deeper, touching her undergarment. He slips his fingers in past the material touching the most naked womanly part of Guinevere. He stills his hand there, waiting for her response.

It comes within seconds. Having him there, his fingers right there at that pinnacle of all her sensual awakening, it's almost as if Gwen's breathing stops. She moans so deeply against Arthur that she feels him end the kiss, whisper against her cheek, "I can stop it now."

Not that it would be easy for him. He's already going to have to do something about his own sorry state. He's practically in pain watching her come to this but also so fervidly excited if anything. To be a man and to bring the woman you love to this brink, it brings out his wildest nature.

"No." She can feel the sweat beaded against her cheeks, feel how its tiny amounts slip from her breasts to his clasping fondling fingers. And there. Between her thighs. Where his hand has actually slid into her under garments, it's like burning pearls of rain. It almost hurts that it gives her such ecstasy, but it's still out of reach of something. The building, the ascending, it has to go somewhere. She wants to find that point. With him. "More…Arthur. _More_."

She practically begs him that Arthur kisses her lips deeply, lifting the hand on her breast gently away and pressing it into her mouth, feeling as her lips part agreeably to take it. Suck it. Down below he fingers her deeper. Presses one just a touch inside her.

Her hips undulate against him. Then bolder than ever, Gwen firmly grips his hand, bringing it back to her breast and lowers her mouth to Arthur's neck, tasting, giving a small nibble of the musky salty skin.

Arthur groans hard. It's animal as his fingers squeeze her breast, go from one to the other, building up friction.

Down below, _oh_, she twists in sweet agony. More, she needs more.

Arthur gives it to her, his hand inside her undergarment growing impatient of the slow foreplay just a touch, yet still keeping himself in check as much he can. Bringing one finger in and out while the other rubs over every sensitive nerve of deep building stimulation, he forges the hard driving pleasure.

Her body rises against his, pulling hard at his golden sand hairs, getting to a pinnacle that is just one second away. Gwen groans with not yet completion.

One more brush of his fingers, her nipple being circled and squeezed softly, his lips going around her lips, his one finger touching inside as the other plays her sensitivity with a learned, knowing caress sends her over. She shudders against him, pressed deeply into his back.

"_Oh Arthur…"_

Her liquid heat spreads around him. Hotly wet she succumbs and he holds her tightly to let her know his bolster will always be there for her to lean upon. "I have you…_I have you…_"

He murmurs drunkenly, intoxicated by love and physical sensual action as she capitulates against him, into his hard touch, allows him to swallow her lips to silence the further cries.

Love. In its deepest intimate form. _Fathomless_. Pained and oh so pleasured.

She breathes raggedly in his arms as his own hot dry breaths nearly echo. He holds her, claiming sweet victory of giving her all she wanted.

And in the very enjoyable process erasing that horrid dream forever…

A few moments of her like that, leant against him, he reaches for the pillows upon his bed. Holding at her waist he brings her up against them so she has the support of the headboard, keeping her strongly away from the lower part of his body.

Gwen, still blissfully dazed, questions languidly, "Arthur?"

"I'll be right back."

"But-

Slowly he kisses her lips, holding onto her neck, the underline of her breasts. She moans happily. Arthur smiles at it and presses another tender kiss to her lips. "Right back…"

He murmurs again and she just sighs contentedly, leaning against the pillows he placed for her, not bothering yet to bring her chemise down. She feels thoroughly loved.

Her eyes open as she hears what sounds like a muted groan. She thinks he's gone out the door, but she's not certain. Looking down now Gwen brings her chemise back over her legs, not at all out of shame. Nothing could ever be shameful about the exquisite agony and pleasure she just felt. Simply the heat is cooling a bit. Turning, after a few moments, she sees him walk back in.

"Are you alright?"

Guinevere asks immediately, making Arthur smile fondly. Moving down to the bed, he lifts her body slightly, pushes his back against the pillows and then brings her against him. Taking her hand in his, kissing it, he whispers, "I'm fine."

She grimaces questioningly.

Arthur gestures downward meaningfully.

Gwen's eyes widen. So wrapped up in her own pleasure she hadn't even thought of his enough. "Oh Arthur…" She lifts up from the bed, presses her hand against his now half flushed chest. "I should have thought of your needs. Your-

He grasps her hand at this, leaving her no choice, but to bring her head down on his chest. Lifting his hands, his fingers traverse through the hot wet curls that are just a bit softer than her most intimate ones between her thighs, the ones he just felt for the first time. Oh those thighs. Oh what this woman holds that makes him not only love her, but strongly fiercely desire her. "No. Tonight was for you. After that dream I just wanted you to not hurt anymore. I haven't even asked Guinevere. Are you alright? The dreams…what we did…what you allowed me to do. Are you okay?"

Her lips press intimate kisses over his chest, feeling the fine hair, and the leftover beads of perspiration. She loves that they can be as close as this. "The dreams are all but forgotten. Thanks to you my King. My love, my Arthur. What you did for me, I only hope I can repay the favor the night of our wedding."

"You don't have to repay me anything." Of course he can't help but tease some, "But if it is the lady's desire to make her king happy who am I to deny her the privilege?"

She smiles wickedly, bringing down her head to press soft kisses on his chest, her finger tickling his nipple.

Arthur bucks slightly, brushing her hand away a bit strongly, but gently. "Ehh, okay."

She laughs softly, letting him remove her hand. "I made you react."

"Yes, eh, you did." He says quickly, letting out a long pent up sigh.

She faces him curiously, bringing her chin down upon his chest. "Arthur, so that will be what it's like our wedding night?"

She's half teasing. Arthur worries he might have created a monster. _Well half worries_. She is beautiful right now. It's hard not to start getting aroused once more. "Partly. We might do a little more. If you're game."

He means it. He won't take it to any levels she's not ready yet for, married or not. Gwen smiles with adoration at it. He is such a wonderful strong man with just a few inadequacies, like his snoring. But she can live through that. Maybe push against his nose. Heard that sometimes works. "Mmmm…when you joust you go all the way, right?"

He laughs at that, wondering how on earth they got to this subject, but nods his head. "Yes, definitely."

"Well then in bed we should too."

They both laugh. Lazily. Happily. Arthur's fingers tangle further into her hair as she strokes his chest gently. He asks once more to be certain, "So it's gone now, right Guinevere? The dream?"

She kisses the hot sleights of moisture of his chest, feeling against her lips the finest buzz of hair. "Yes, definitely." Oh there may still be shards ready to come back, but she has all the reassurance that it was nothing of reality and not worth it to fret over something so misinformed.

"Good." He sighs languidly at the soft warm pressure of her mouth on his naked skin.

"Arthur?" She asks, tracing her fingers over his upper body's firm contours.

"Yes?"

"Have _you_ had any bad dreams, concerning us?"

Arthur says nothing, tightening his grip on her. The off guard question brings on tense knots. He answers now, honestly, but cautiously. "A few."

She lifts her head from his chest, looks into his blue eyes that are diverted at the moment, trained on the fire. "Arthur?"

Slowly, reluctantly, his eyes return to hers.

"What about?" Gwen asks pointedly.

Arthur's bottom lip pouts outward, blood rushed. He looks up at the ceiling, avoiding her eyes.

Gwen grows concerned, climbing half up his chest to cup his cheeks into her palms, to kiss his lips over and over until he breathes raggedly. "Tell me. Please."

Arthur's hesitation is weakened by her coaxing actions. This is a spider web of trouble, but she's asked, and avoiding things, he has learned from experience, always ends up in some kind of calamity. "Not what. Who.

Lancelot."

She stiffens.

Arthur's let the cat out of the bag, even if he's not so sure it was the best idea. Anything concerning Lancelot has been barbed since the time of Hengist's kidnapping of her. Lancelot is one of his best knights without question, an honorable hard fighting man. Nearly from the first Arthur saw greatness in him. Beyond things get pricklier. For Lancelot has shown he has feelings for Guinevere. And it would be a folly to think she has none for him.

Gwen inches away slightly as the silence seems deafening except for the few crackles of the nearly succumbed fire.

Arthur won't let her go entirely though, weaving his fingers strongly into her dark curling hair. He asks the question bluntly, maybe foolishly.

"You do have feelings for him, yes?"

Gwen feels hurt twist into a touch of shame. "I care for him. So do you. He is your friend, is he not?"

Arthur shrugs with a touch of stubbornness lining his brow before he admits more solidly. "A knight, a fine one at that, he is, yes. So he matters of course. All my knights do. A friend? I don't know Guinevere. I think that changed some when you and he were imprisoned by Hengist."

"Then why did you make him a knight? Beyond his ability. If this bothers you, gives you bad dreams, why place him in such proximity? You knew once you did that he'd be closer to me physically. You could have kept him away if you truly wanted."

He stares at her hard for long moments. "And that would have kept you away from him?" He asks directly.

Gwen sighs now, reaching down to touch Arthur's cheeks, his chin. "I love _you_ Arthur Pendragon. I have vowed to marry you. Not Lancelot. Do I care for him?" She kisses Arthur's lips tenderly, whispering against his skin. "Yes. But he is not you." She frowns.

"What?" Arthur asks, tendering his fingers over her back.

"Did you bring him back as some sort of test?" She doesn't really believe that, but the moment is heated so the asking seems inevitable.

"Of course not. He is honorable, a strong knight. I do like him, but I don't mind so much sending him on quests and such so he is not so near all the time. There, is that what you wanted to hear me say? I get jealous. I would trust him with your life. I know he'd protect you. I just don't want him around you so much if I can help it."

"Because you don't trust me?"

Arthur pushes his fingers through her hair, brings her face down to his as he kisses her lips softly. "No. I didn't mean it that way. I've just seen the way you are with him and he with you and if there wasn't me he'd want to be with you Guinevere. I have no doubt of that."

She frowns painfully. It is true, but equally true is that she cannot fathom her life without Arthur. It has always been Arthur, her prince, now her king. "And I only have to compete with a kingdom."

He laughs sadly at that before she pinches the skin of his shoulder playfully. "I jest. Come on. I love Camelot as much I dare say as you. And you are right, I care for Lancelot, but I do NOT love him Arthur. I love you and I…I have had feelings for you for quite some time. Even silly crushes. I see the man you are becoming, so brave, so strong and so fair. So just to your people. You treat them like they are precious, more than simple subjects. You hurt when one of them is hurting. I see it in your eyes Arthur. I hear it in your voice." She moves her hand over his chest gently. "You were born to be king. I honor that. I don't feel jealousy of that. And I don't want you to feel it of Lancelot. I can never love another man like I love you Arthur. Everything that you are, the king, the brave warrior, the chivalrous man, the snorer…"

She adds the last with a wink, making Arthur grimace tightly as he rapidly protests.

"I do NOT snore Guinevere."

She caresses his skin with a smile. "Oh you do my love. Just like a snorting pig."

Arthur rolls his eyes as Gwen laughs. "So very romantic Guinevere. And so complimentary."

She shrugs, stroking his chest. "Well, you receive enough compliments as it is from all your courtly visitors. You can hear the truth from me."

Arthur smiles, laughs softly and brings her tightly against his chest, letting out a murmur of contentment. This subject of Lancelot is perhaps not completely over, but it is tempered for the moment. He relaxes in knowing that the woman he intends to marry does indeed love him greatly. He has felt it this night and many more before. "I am honored to be king now, truly. But with you, I feel more simply Arthur, the man, than with anyone. You let me be that, humble, simple if anything."

She too knows that they will have more to deal with throughout time, including concerns about Lancelot. It is good that he knows she cares for the man because she does not want secrets and fibs of the truth between them. Truth is all the knights mean a great deal to her for always she has adored the wonder of Camelot. It is her home entirely. But beyond that Arthur is the man who she respects and loves. So greatly. Lifting up over his chest, she takes his cheeks into her hands.

"I watch you every day grow more as king, become stronger, and more understanding of your duty. I love how you intently listen to the people when they come to you, no matter what their wealth. I knew it years ago and I know it now, you are a great king, Arthur Pendragon. You gave me hope then and you give me hope now."

He touches her lips emotionally, feeling her gentle kiss before she completes her thoughts.

"And it is because of the man you are, the caring heart you have. All of that is why I love you."

They kiss. She touches his shoulder as their lips slip away from each other's. The slight scar is there along with other ones on his body from battles and even simple injuries as a child. "Oh your shoulder, does it hurt?"

He shrugs easily. "No. Have enough of these. It'll go away in a few days or such. It's my back that's bothering me more. Sitting in those chairs for hours, ah…"

"Oh, should you lie a different way?"

He smiles up at her. "No, I love having you as you are now. Keeps my chest warm."

She giggles at that, planting a kiss upon his chest, before her body straightens in departure. "I should go."

Before she can fully leave his grasp, he lets out a disgruntled grunt of disapproval. Strongly his arms pull her back to him. "What? Now? Alone? No. You'll stay with me tonight."

"And what about the morning? When your servant comes to awaken you?"

Arthur doesn't look the least bit bothered. "Well considering that's Merlin I don't think it's a problem. He's an idiot, but smart enough to know that flapping his lips will get him a night in the dungeons."

He's mostly teasing. Gwen pokes her fingers against Arthur's chest. "He's also my friend."

"Well there we go. Excuse neatly defeated. You'll stay. I'll hear of nothing else."

Her eyebrows lift. "You're ordering me?"

Arthur brings her head down on his chest, using the brawn of his muscles to get his way. "Yes, I'm ordering you. As king. You need to obey me."

He watches as her eyes scrutinize him silently. Her silence is usually more powerful than anything. Her finger taps against his chest as she manages to lift her head halfway up under his _loving_ stranglehold. "When I am queen we will just see about your commands."

Arthur laughs at that, running his hand over her back, whispering with resolve, "Perhaps if we sleep together, neither one of us will have any of those awful dreams."

That makes her sigh with approval as she lies down completely upon his chest, caressing it with her fingers. "That is your best reason yet."

Arthur closes his eyes, tired, but warm, fulfilled. "Good night My Lady."

She shuts hers too, feeling the soft up and down pattern of his hand over her back and the slow steady rise of his heartbeat against her cheek.

"Good night My Lord."

**III**

End of Part II

The final part will be posted next week.

Thanks for reading. Feedback is appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Queen of Hearts

**Rating:** M for mature situations

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim. Merlin belongs to BBC/Shine.

**Genre:**Future Cannon (no spoilers beyond season 3) Angst/Drama (hurt/comfort)

**Characters:** Guinevere, Arthur, Morgana, Merlin, Gwaine and some more to be revealed

**Summary:** Months before Guinevere's wedding to King Arthur she is faced with an obstacle. Is it time to let the past go?

**Author's Note:**This is the final part of three.

Thanks for the feedback, story alerts etc!

**Queen of Hearts**

**Part III **

_**Loyalty and Love**_

With a cheery tune the servant enters his master's quarters. He's actually _Court Sorcerer_, Arthur having found out about his magic a little less than a year ago. Arthur was definitely stunned and angry, but none of Merlin's earlier nightmarish dreams about what would happen, surfaced. Their back and forth bantering friendship is still intact, though it will probably be the day that Arthur is capable of magic himself that he will admit _easily_ Merlin is his friend. That's okay. Merlin just happily keeps calling him a prat, clotpole and dollophead.

He enters the far end of his quarters, putting down the king's just polished armor on a chair. After one week of the bootlickers nearly driving him to madness, especially when one attempted to wipe away a crumb from Arthur's tunic _as he was wearing it_, Merlin is Arthur's only servant. Moving to where the bedroom is, Merlin opens his mouth to speak, feeling it widen more as the sight before him is a startling one.

"Arthur?"

Merlin asks in a tiny whisper. He's sleeping in the bed as usual, but he's not alone. Merlin's hands shake aggressively. His lips purse furiously. He wonders hotly how Arthur could ever do this to Gwen. She loves him so much and he loves her.

_Wait_, he loves her.

Arthur would never hurt Gwen. She means everything to him. _This isn't some crazy spell worked on the king, is it?_

Merlin's foot kicks at something not so hard. He bends down to the floor, seeing it. Lifting it into his hands, Merlin's anger softens to a happy smile. It brightens up his entire face as he lightly fingers the lavender material. As he does so the woman in the bed stirs in contented slumber. Merlin steps further into the room catching it now with a strong grin. It's not just some woman. _Of course not_. It's Gwen with her face pillowed against the king's chest, her dark curls haloing it. Depositing the cloak on another chair Merlin tiptoes backward out of the room hoping that they won't wake before he gets it all completed.

**TTT**

Gwen's eyes slide open to a hint of commencing golden sunlight shining through the window. She has never felt more warm or comfortable. As she looks around the room it soon becomes clear it is neither her little home nor her simple bed. She is joined in this grand luxurious bed by another.

A man who makes her smile.

She gazes down upon his muscled chest and lifts her chin upon it, taking in with a fond glow in her eyes how he is slumbering so quietly, at the moment, no snoring. His face is so youthful in slumber, that bottom lip hanging open with a faint pout. And his features so relaxed. With a delightful wondering grin Gwen kisses Arthur's nose, lips and forehead, before turning to what is beyond. His clothes and cleaned armor sit on the chair at his table which right now is completely set up for breakfast. Breakfast for two. Gwen sits up to get a closer look at the lavish setup.

"Mmmm, no, you're not allowed to move."

That voice makes her turn around. His eyes are lazily half opened, his mouth curved into blissful relaxation as his hand grips her waist trying to pull her back. Gwen laughs at his silliness, running her hand over his chest with ease. She has never felt closer to him than now. She can barely imagine how after they are married they will be even closer, but she is most sure they will be. "We have breakfast set up for us Arthur. "

The king looks past the beautiful woman in his bed, seeing a spread of breakfast food that honestly is quite astonishing. "Merlin?"

Gwen shrugs. "I guess. I was asleep."

"Me too." Arthur sits up now, gathering Guinevere into his arms. He presses kisses against her face and lastly her lips. Touching at her mouth afterwards with his finger, he whispers, "How are you feeling?"

Gwen smiles softly, knowing she probably should be rushing out of here because that is protocol and all, but she doesn't want to feel shame for loving this man and being with him in an intimate way that still leaves much for their wedded night, before she becomes queen. And so she won't. "Happy."

"Me too. Now how about we have this breakfast that's on the table?"

She agrees when he lets out a groan. "Your back?" Gwen asks sympathetically.

Arthur grimaces tightly, muscles stiff there. "Yes, it's alright though."

Gwen frowns with disapproval. "Let me be the judge of that. On your stomach."

Arthur looks back at her questioningly.

She permits no argument. "Now Arthur."

Gingerly he does as she's asked. Gwen sits up at his side, bending her knees so she is up high with good support. Then bringing her hands out, she grasps the knotted muscles of his shoulders, extra gentle with the one that is injured. Moving that hand down more, she pushes and pulls at the bareness of his back, kneading the skin, tendering the tense muscle.

"Oh…" Arthur lets out, under her gentle, but firm pressure. His face presses into the pillow, mouth muffled and so voice coming out garbled. _"You're a wonder."_

Gwen smiles at his satisfactory reaction. He helped her so the night before. Went beyond even. It is her pleasure to bring on his ease. She continues to knead until she feels the muscles less tense, suppler to her ministrations. Then bending down she kisses the tended-to skin.

Arthur closes his eyes, before turning, feeling her hands leave him to allow his movement. "I love you." He whispers over her brow, against her cheek, kissing the sweet heat of her face.

"I love you the same." She whispers back. They kiss some more before she feels his hand pull at hers. "Come on. Let's go have that breakfast before it goes cold."

She smiles. "Yes."

Hands entwined they come to the breakfast table. There is a note in the middle. She reads it. _"For the King and his Lady. Enjoy. –Your humble servant, Merlin."_

Arthur laughs wryly as he seats the woman he loves. "Humble, hah, and he creates windstorms and communicates with a massive sized dragon. Idiot."

Gwen smiles fondly, feeding him a bite of sausage as he sits across from her. "Enough. Let's enjoy our breakfast created for us by one of our dearest friends."

Arthur smiles warmly, delighting in the heated sausage and preferred company. No need to contradict her. She's right about it all, even the friend part. Even if Arthur sees no need to admit it openly.

After all…

He's king.

**TTT**

When Merlin returns, being let in after a discreet knock on the door, making sure he won't catch something he's not supposed to, the king is dressed and so is Gwen. Arthur had one of the servant ladies gather her some clothing from Morgana's room which still is as it was when she resided there. Gwen is not totally comfortable in it, but at least it's one of the dresses Morgana wore before she turned on all of them, an older purpling one.

Merlin jokes now happily, not having to open the drapes as he can see they are fully parted already. Probably thanks to Gwen. "You put your own clothes on Arthur? Will wonders ever cease!"

Arthur glares as Gwen laughs at Merlin's teasing.

"Actually Guinevere assisted me. And she's better with quite a few things than you are Merlin."

The servant-sorcerer grins, muttering under his breath, _"I'll bet."_

Gwen blushes a bit at the double meaning as Arthur, after a few moments, getting the double meaning too, glares further. Gwen's blushing turns to amusement. Merlin's always been the best at lightening and humoring moods. Of course the banter is not far off. Always settles in between these two. Every servant before Merlin was mostly afraid of Arthur and the former king. But Merlin, well, he has always been quite original.

"Shut up Merlin. And _hurry_ up. You need to carry my hunting gear."

"Why?" Merlin asks innocently.

Gwen bites down on her bottom lip to keep her laughter in check.

Arthur wrinkles his nose with disbelief, stating what should be obvious. "Well for the HUNT of course. We're going to get some deer."

Merlin rolls his eyes, looking down at all the hunting gear with disdain. Then with a decisive grin, his eyes fill with golden glow.

Arthur stares as every piece Merlin should be carrying actually is now _floating_ alongside the warlock.

Gwen shakes her head thinking, _not a good idea Merlin_.

"Will you put that DOWN?" Arthur rants loudly.

Merlin does. Half of it clashes to Arthur's-

"OW!"

_Foot._

"You said to put it down."

Arthur, after kicking the abusive gear away from his foot, flinching at the pain that causes, looks to Guinevere who puts her hands on his shoulders with calm appeasement.

"Patience Arthur." She brings his waist into the lock of her hands, kisses him softly, feeling him expand it with a happy sigh.

Merlin watches with a grin, before frowning, before turning away, _before turning red_, before grinning a bit again. And then looking away again.

By that time it's _done_. Arthur grimaces at Merlin's idiotic look. "Come on-

Before he can get the words out, Gwen touches his chest meaningfully. "I need to speak to Merlin. Just a moment. I'll tell you about it later."

Arthur nods his head with understanding. "Alright. See you downstairs Merlin. Oh and Merlin?"

"Yes?"

Arthur smiles begrudgingly, shuffling from one booted foot to another. "Uh, er, thank you for breakfast. We both enjoyed it, yes Guinevere?"

"Yes we did. Thank you Merlin." She smiles, impressed by how Arthur is showing kindness to his servant even if he delivers it a bit awkwardly. He's learning and it clearly displays the camaraderie there truly is between Arthur and Merlin. Oh they may regularly argue, but each has protected the other many times. It's a solid friendship. She's glad to be in the middle of it, to have Merlin as a friendly companion, for at the moment, she needs something of him.

Of course Arthur can't leave it at just the compliment, has to say more. "Nice to know you're actually good at something."

Merlin's retort is quick. "And that you're just as supercilious as ever."

Gwen rolls her eyes. _Men will always be boys_.

Arthur wonders curiously what Guinevere wants to speak to Merlin about. He supposes he'll find out later as he departs the room now with a wry smile at Merlin's silly comeback. As he passes by her, he delivers a soft polite kiss to her cheek.

The room's lightened mood quickly alters as Gwen watches Arthur's departure silently.

"Everything okay Gwen?"

Gwen turns at the voice, seeing Merlin standing just a bit closer, his eyes questioning. She hesitates, not because of Merlin, but the subject. It is painfully tricky. _She was family, loved_. For years Gwen, not at all being dishonorable to the actual role of handmaiden, felt like she had a sister. It didn't have to be in blood because the connection between them was so deep. When Hengist captured her she truly felt her lady's depth of relief as she was returned. For years it was complete trust between them. Last night, when Arthur had fallen asleep and she had too, she suddenly woke, not with a horrible dream in her mind, but a revelation that sent her into a shiver again, before she snuggled back into her sovereign's arms.

"Merlin, can you influence someone's dreams…through magic?"

The warlock is not at all ready for that question. "Yes, some, I think. If you're asking can I do it, I haven't really tried. Magic like that Gwen, it interferes with a person's normal way of life. You're entering their mind and soul really. It's dark. Could make a person do your bidding or even drive them to madness."

"Then it is possible?"

Merlin nods his head slowly. "I'm sure it is. Why?"

Gwen ignores his question, pulling her cloak around her body. It surrounds the borrowed purpling dress. When she goes home she will take it off. "Do you think Morgana could do it?"

Merlin stares at her. If you travel the streets now and you hear people talking about her, the Lady Morgana is no longer the name used. Now it's with airs of haunting, _the witch_. It's almost as if Camelot's citizens have fun with the mysteriousness. Or are inclined to treat her as if she never had been a part of Camelot. Sometimes she may as well not have been. Arthur is very reluctant to speak about her beyond protection of the kingdom.

"Gwen, is that why you're here? Did something happen last night?"

She shakes her head. "Merlin, if you could just answer the question. Ask me none. As my friend, please?"

It's a friendly request, though lined in firmness, befitting of a woman soon to be queen. It behooves Merlin to answer.

"I'm assuming she could. Her magic is very powerful after Morgause's teachings. And she's a seer. She sees things before they really happen so it's possible she can make others do the same. Or witness visions of what she _wants_ them to."

Gwen lowers her head, suddenly feeling much older, less innocent. Something that had remained fractional in her heart, hoping for one last bit of life, now solidly dies.

"Thank you Merlin." She manages a small smile.

It's not enough for the warlock. "Gwen?"

A tear runs down her face. She quickly pushes it away, feeling her friend's hand on her shoulder as he peers into her face. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine." She says, and pushes him slightly with a small laugh. "Go on. Arthur will send the guards after you if you're so late, you know that! Go on Merlin. Have a good hunt."

He rolls his eyes at that. Merlin still hates hunts. But begrudgingly likes spending time with the king away from Camelot. "Oh yes, I'm sure it will be splendid!" He jokes, giving her one last look, but she just smiles. Merlin shrugs and leaves the room.

Soon after Gwen vacates it too. She walks down the long hallway, turning at the next and then finds a door. She pushes it open, taking in the finely made quarters, _as if she never left_. As if she never became Arthur and Camelot's biggest threat. Gwen touches her hand to the fine silk linens on the bed. She moves to the changing screen, fingering the intricate wooden carved designs cut through its frame. Looking down, she sees the fresh flowers placed upon the dressing table. Every week new ones are brought in, _for whatever reason_, Gwen thinks now.

_Because she's not coming back_.

Gwen lowers to the edge of the bed, sits upon it, looking around the room silently. Recalling so many days of service and friendship. _Like sisters_.

"_It was you. Wasn't it Morgana? I'm not sure fully how I know, but I can…feel…it. Maybe it was the types of flowers, the ones I used to pick for you. Or perhaps the color of the curtains, the same exact material you gave for me to make into one of my dresses. I know it was. I just…know. And I think I understand now. That you are no longer…"_

Fresh tears fall from her eyes, silent ones. Decaying ones.

"_My friend…and you never will be again. You have chosen your alliance Morgana. And I have chosen mine. I will never trust you again. And you should not trust me. For my loyalty, my allegiance, and my love is to Camelot and to Arthur. You will not hurt him. I will not let you. And you will never come between us. Not even with a hideous dream that I suppose was intended to drive me to madness. _

_Goodbye Morgana. _

_My Lady."_

Gwen sits there for a long time, staring out the window she used to watch her lady look out from, as if she was confined into a prison she wanted out of…

It is many moments later when Gwen gets up, moving to the flowers in the vase, and with a strong grip, takes them away from the room. For months, for years, they kept it all intact, like somehow _the lady_ would come back and everything would return to normal.

But that will never happen.

As Gwen sees one of the servant girls pass by, she calls out to her, "Lizzie…"

"Yes my Lady?"

"I would like this room cleaned out, the personal belongings put into storage. It will then be suitable for the visiting Lady Patricia next week. Please start doing it immediately."

"But my Lady…" Lizzie seems reluctant.

"Yes?"

"That is the Lady Morgana's room."

Gwen tightens her bottom lip. "It was. It no longer is. The Lady Morgana is gone. Do it soon. Please. Thank you."

Gwen doesn't see the girl's astonished expression as she just stands there. She doesn't see it for Gwen strongly walks away, expression directed forward.

Young sweet innocence is gone.

**TTT**

Beyond, in a barely illuminated cave, the witch has dark circle under her eyes. Her mouth lines with unhappiness.

She is disturbed by what happened last night. Searching a pool of visions, she sees nothing but joy upon the handmaiden's face, the future wedding completely in place. Love between her and the king no less.

"NO!" The witch sneers. "I don't understand it! What happened?"

"Maybe you miscalculated something Morgana."

She whips around at the voice, ready to lift her hands with threatening hexes, but as he stops before her, just smiling, she stares. "You? _I know you_."

He is taller, but still thin, expression pale. The powdery skin peeks out from the dark frays of hair. Jeweled eyes pierce. "Of course you do Morgana."

He knows her name instantly. She scrutinizes, wondering.

"You kept me safe twice from harm. My turn to return the favor. The chimera didn't work. That's no matter. You've been alone. It's understandable there would be some kind of drawback. But now, that's over. I'm here to help you."

"Who-

He speaks to her mind, lips still:

_When the then king would have me executed, you saved me._

"Mordred?" Morgana hears the telepathic speech with no difficulty. She is amazed at the identity of its speaker. It's been years and he has matured, just passing his teen years it seems.

He speaks with his mouth again. "Yes. Glad you haven't forgotten me Morgana. I think we could help each other very much."

Morgana holds back, stunned still. She cared for him definitely. The boy was no criminal, only a sick child who was born with magic. Then she saw it as no crime. Now she sees it as true wonder, a gift.

As she says nothing more, Mordred continues, "I've lived with the Druids all my life. People strong in magic. As am I. And now you. I know you've been learning more from Morgause."

"How?" Morgana asks curiously.

Mordred shakes his head. "No. That's not important. Magic can show many things. As a seer surely you understand that. What matters now Morgana is that you and I unite. Combine our powers, abilities."

"Mordred, how do you know so much?"

He declines to answer straightforward, taking a step forward to grasp her pale white hands, nearly a matching set to his. "I know even more Morgana. Would you like me to tell you who this Emrys of your dreams is? When you find out…

You'll hate him even more."

"Who?"

"Who poisoned you Morgana?"

"NO."

"Oh yes. How do you think he saved Camelot? How do you think he was able to 'clumsily' claim your sister's life?"

Morgana is shocked and angry. "So he stopped my chimera?"

Mordred shakes his head. "No. That, oddly enough, wasn't Emrys. I've always felt him you see. As he can feel me. Whatever stopped the chimera, that was something else. Something I can't identify."

Morgana sneers with barbs of pain. "He poisoned me. He and Arthur and his knights took my sister from me. I want him dead. I want him to suffer Mordred. He came to Camelot as nothing more than a poor village boy. Now he is the king's constant companion. _While I live here_. In the woods. Forced into caves where I must hide. It is my right to be queen. To rule. To live better than this." She gestures around to the dark simple surroundings.

Mordred nods in agreement. "You're right Morgana. You can change it. We can." He gestures to the pool of water, with ancient words and a swift turn of his hands, creates images in the glassy liquid. "Watch. See."

Morgana looks down into the water, eyes flashing with shock and excitement at what transpires through the ripples. More than she ever planned. More than Morgause even tried to conjure.

Seeing the light of inspiration shining in her eyes now, Mordred smiles purposefully. "We can do it all Morgana. Together. Emrys not only crossed you. He betrayed me too. It'll take time. But I can be patient and I know you can too. We'll destroy his world."

They clasp hands. United. _Camelot will fall_. And with it everyone who has crossed them.

Morgana is feeling better, resolution found. She can't let go of the dream's failure entirely though. Her strong seer abilities should have made it work.

_So why didn't it?_

Perhaps the answer can never be vocalized, for it comes from the passage beyond mortal life. The handmaiden has loving _guardians_.

Lost too soon, but never so far away. They are protectors of a woman with a heart strong enough to thwart a menacing night terror.

**TTT**

With a parroting song of admiring ladies and awed shouts of peasant men he returns. Lord Lancelot is the knight that has coveted the most of attentions. The men respect him for his prowess at fight. The women revel at his gallantry. He rides his horse through the palace gates right after the king returns from his hunting jaunt, a buck strapped to the latter's saddle. While Gwaine, Merlin and Elyan flank Arthur, Percival, Leon and a young scribe surround Lancelot. From the lowest palace tower, Gwen turns from one man to another. Each is dirtied, one after a peacekeeping trek, the other after his favorite hobby. Each recognizes the other.

"Lancelot. Well how did it go?"

Smiling at an admiring lady politely, Lancelot jumps off his horse. The king's stallion is already receiving a wipe-down by Merlin. "Well actually Sire."

The king pushes away wet bangs of hair from his sweating forehead, signaling to his already working servant. "Merlin, fetch me some water will you? Something to clean this all off before you set my bath."

Merlin shakes his head wryly before making his way to the fountain. _One thing after another always with the king_. Inwardly mumbling how much of a prat he can be, he is met by someone who brings on a smile.

Arthur puts his hand on Lancelot's shoulder, drawing him away from the rest. "What did _he_ say?"

Lancelot signals to his scribe for some water. The trip was not bad, but perhaps not as well as he made it seem to the crowd. There could still be roadblocks that he makes the king aware of now. "That he will consider a visit to Camelot. Where you two can talk further about the peace treaty Arthur. He made no promise, but he's willing to start discussions."

Arthur nods, understanding. He honestly didn't expect much more. Not yet anyway. When he comes to visit Camelot, perhaps it can convince him more. The beauty of the palace and its surroundings, there is nothing like it.

"Well at least there's that. And your ride, any issues?"

Lancelot shakes his head, referring to one not so significant incident. "Just a bandit raid. We took care of it."

That appeases Arthur. He's dealt with bandits since he was a boy. All the knights are well enough trained to handle them as nothing much more than a brief physical hindrance. In aid to that, Leon, Percival and Lancelot are some of the noblest fighters he's ever known. Each has enough strength and wisdom to deal with such problems responsibly. "I'm sure you did. Good to have you back Lancelot."

The scribe returns with Lancelot's water and a rag to wipe the dirt from his face. Lancelot thanks him quickly.

Arthur grunts, a very unkingly response, but then he still is _Arthur_. "Where is Merlin with that-

"Perhaps _I_ could help you Sire?"

A smile spreads across the king's face, alleviating the irritation rapidly. It's not Merlin, but Guinevere, wearing a rose flowing dress fashioned by her own skilled hand.

Gwen turns to Lancelot with a polite smile.

"Lord Lancelot. It is very good to have you back safe and sound. I trust your trip went well."

Lancelot peers at Gwen momentarily before clearing his throat. The king is in attendance. He accepts her offered hand shortly. It's clear to him that she is creating some distance between them, showing him just courteous civility. It's rightful. Arthur is king. She will soon be queen. Nothing can interfere with that.

"It went just fine my Lady. Thank you for your well wishes. If you'll both excuse me…"

Lancelot turns to the admiring ladies and men who wish for his position. Arthur has opened up knight service to anyone, but worth must be proven first. Not all are able to achieve that.

He gives just one backward glance to the king and his lady. They share private laughter as she gently wipes the dirt from his face.

Lancelot's attention goes back to the admirers and the rest of his fellow knights as Arthur and Gwen share more time together.

"How did you get so muddy this time?" Gwen asks teasingly as she wipes the last bit of muck away from her love's cheek.

"Eh, Merlin tried to use magic to get the buck out of its hiding. And Gwaine startled by it all pushed me into a patch of mud. Fell right over. Isn't that so kingly? Don't know what was with Gwaine today. Swear it was like he wanted me to fall over."

Gwen stifles a snicker and bit of guilt. _Oh Gwaine_, looking out for her as always. Even if she reassured him the king had nothing to do with her upset. The king that he loves to teasingly call _princess_. Gwen cups the king's cheek with her hands, not caring that there's a group of watchers. They are growing accustomed to their shown affection anyway, as the wedding is so near. Her lips press gently upon Arthur's, feeling his own return the display of emotion.

Arthur rubs his hands over her back intimately as he walks her backward into an overhang of the castle where watching eyes can't see so easily. Touching her lips, feeling her mouth actually take his finger in for a second before releasing, he lazily, happily requests, "Come share dinner with me tonight."

She shakes her head resolutely. Arthur frowns, but then Gwen smiles, fingers curling into his hair. "Come to my home. I will cook for you."

He likes that idea, kissing her slowly. _"Yes."_

Something is in her eyes though as they part. He tips her chin. She swallows.

"I took the things out of Morgana's room. I told Lizzie to prepare it for the Lady Patricia. I hope it doesn't upset you too much."

He slowly shakes his head.

"What is it?" She asks. "Are you okay with this Arthur? I can have it all moved back if you really need it to be."

Arthur touches Guinevere's bottom lip strongly. "I'm fine with it. I just-I thought you wouldn't be. That's why I didn't let anyone move it, even after my father's…"

A lump sticks in his throat. Gwen tenderly moves her hand over his shoulder. He still misses him of course.

"After my father's funeral."

She smiles tenderly. After his father's death, Arthur kept those things there because he thought she couldn't take their removal. And he is actually right. For many days she couldn't think to part with Morgana's belongings. But now, the dream has sealed it.

"It's alright. I'm fine with it. After all, she is not coming back. Not the Morgana we knew and loved."

He nods his head, emotion making him breathe hard.

Gwen brings him closer to her, feeling his arms surround her in kind. She clings to his warmth. He lingers within her sweetness. The past must be said goodbye to. It is the dawn of a new era.

Camelot is his. And in days it will be _theirs_.

She cups his cheeks tenderly. "Go have your bath. I will prepare our dinner. By the time you are done washing and come to my place, it will be ready."

He grins like a happy boy, a man giddy in love.

Gwen laughs as he playfully skips away.

So silly. So _Arthur_.

She turns out to the land before her. Soon she will share in its reign. Past the gates, to the forests, she sees two young girls skipping with bunches of flowers between them. Teasing back and forth. A lady and her handmaiden she knows because the young, barely of twelve years old age, lady, just requested one. She watches them for a few more moments silently. Longingly.

And then resolutely turns away. She has a chicken dinner to make. A man she loves to spend time with. But first she will check the room she had Lizzy prepare for the upcoming Lady Patricia.

_Just another guest room_.

Any memory, any dream from the past,

Gone.

The queen of hearts enters the castle,

Guarded by those who will always protect her,

And guarded by her abundant resilient heart.

The End

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